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"How can a mother write about more than twenty years worth of memories of her son in just a few sentences? The years of Paul's life passed with the normal number of joys and worries every mother has; as a toddler, were his legs too short for his body; as a school boy, would his teachers like him; would he break his leg practicing aerial flips on the trampoline; would the bull hurt him as he participated in the rodeo; and what a pretty girl he took to the prom!

Then came the Army years; pride in his being a paratrooper, followed by worry that he would be injured in Iraq. I never considered that he could be killed - that was beyond comprehension. But injured? Maybe. However, he came back from Baghdad safely; to a safe country, and was beginning to adjust to normal American life.

So, what an unimaginable shock it was to have that phone call telling us he had been killed; murdered by an unknown assailant. His life ended at age 24, but ours continues with the reality of the forever empty place in our family."

"Paul came to our home in the summer of 1984. He was two and a half years old at that time. Before he came to us, he was in a good foster home for one year, so he did not have any memory of his birth mother. His two brothers who came into our home were seven and ten. Several months before he came to us, he was ready to stop wearing diapers, but the foster parents said that it would be best to wait until he made the big move to stop wearing diapers and we agreed. Shortly after he came into our home, we were able to stop the diapers.

Paul was a happy little fellow. He became the youngest of our eight children. Since the two older boys had already left home for college or employment, there were only six children at home - two older girls, Rebecca and Lydia, and one boy, Daniel, plus Paul and his two brothers. The girls were a great help with the three new boys, and Daniel, who was six, had the most adjusting to do.

There are some events that stick out in our mind about Paul. It must not have been long after Paul came into our home that we decided to go to the Royal Gorge, which was not far from where we lived. After getting there, we decided to park outside of the entrance gate and walk to the side of the gorge and see the sights. We did this to save paying the entrance fees, which were quite high. After we had been at the rim and were walking back, Paul fell into a cactus bush. He had cactus needles in his hind end and the calf of his leg. He was in misery - crying and screaming. I had only one choice and that was to take his pants off and pull the needles out. I had to leave his pants off, after I got as many needles out as possible. But he was still in misery. There just wasn't much more that could be done for him, but he eventually quieted down.

Paul went to public school until Christmas time of fifth grade. At that time, he was having difficulty getting along with the students and teachers. So we decided that is was best for us to try home-schooling. His mother taught him most of the courses, but it was my job to do the math. It wasn't easy for us or him, but we stuck at it until he finished eighth grade. Then for high school, he spent most of his time at Boys Ranch, Amarillo, TX, from which he graduated in 2000. He met some good friends there and had some very understanding house-parents. While there, we would visit him on the weekends. During this time there, he learned to be a rodeo clown, also riding in their horse parade. Each year around Labor Day, Boys Ranch puts on a rodeo. Paul participated as a clown and rode in the parade.

In 2001, Paul joined the Army. It was probably due to the influence of Andrew, his older brother with whom he never lived, but knew well, that he joined the Army. Andrew had been an active duty Army chaplain for nine years and was at that time, a chaplain in the Colorado National Guard. After basic training, Paul went to Ft. Benning for parachute training. He was then assigned to the 82nd Airborne. When the American forces went to Kuwait for staging an invasion of Iraq, Paul was there, and his unit went right to Baghdad. He was a mortar man - a part of a team that carried a mortar with ammunition. His unit never used their parachute training while in Iraq, but were part of the ground infantry. He was in Baghdad most of 2003. While there, some men were given the opportunity to come back to the States for two weeks. Paul had declined the opportunity, but shortly before Thanksgiving, there was a vacant slot that someone could fill; immediately, Paul was asked if he wanted to and took the opportunity. We had no advance notice that he was coming home.

He first stopped at his brother, Jerry's, in Denver, then came to our house in a rental car. We had no idea he was coming until I heard a car outside and went to investigate, and there was Paul. It was a joyous time. He was here for Thanksgiving. But all good things must come to an end, so he had to return to Iraq.

Paul could have re-enlisted in the Army and was offered sergeant if he would, but he had seen too many things that upset him in Iraq, so he chose to take his discharge. We knew that Paul was having trouble adjusting to civilian life, and everyone tried to help him. Lydia - who was a Commander in the Navy, and her husband, Chele, who was a Lt. Col. in the Marine Corps, offered to let him stay with them in Arlington, VA. He accepted and was living there and worked at a Honda dealership in Maryland when he was tragically killed on June 30, 2006 when coming home from work.

We have had to accept the fact that Paul is no longer with us. There are times that it is hard to do this. We have also had to accept that we may never know who did this awful deed or why it was done. We would like to see justice served and the perpetrator brought to justice and hope that someone who knows some information will be good enough to come forth with information. If you are reading this and know something that would be helpful, for the sake of yourself and your own family, let the Arlington, VA Police Department know what you know, and help contribute to a more humane society."

Paul Zeller- It is hard for me to write this because I am still in disbelief that anything like this could ever happen to him, or for that fact, anyone in our family. It has taken me a little while to even put myself in front of this screen to type this up, two years to be exact. Well I guess I should start with a little background on him and us for that matter….

Paul, Jerry and I were adopted at a very young age to a great family, a very loving family. The reason for our adoption was that we were in a very abusive family. A family that didn’t care, one that stole what they wanted, a father that did what had to to get the money needed for what he needed, and a mother that was too scared to stand up for her children and one that ultimately started abusing us as well. So when we were adopted it was a huge relief to us that we were now in a loving caring home. We grew up in the mountains and had thousands of acres to run around on and play. As children do, we grew up and kind of went our own ways. Paul was the last to leave the home, he graduated high school from Boys Ranch down in Texas. He held a few jobs here and there; moving around much like I did when I was younger.

Just a short time before the terrorist attacks in 2001 he decided his best option to improve was to enlist in the military. He enlisted in the Army and went into the 82^nd Airborne; he thought it would be fun to jump out of perfectly good airplanes. I just remember when he came to visit me just after he got out of Airborne school, he was so proud of his accomplishmen,t as well he should be. When the Twin Towers Fell it was inevitable that he was to get sent to Iraq. Before leaving he asked for some advice from our father who had retired as a commander in the Navy. My father told him “Just do what you were trained to do and you will be fine.” Excellent advice in my opinion, and he was. Paul was over there for just a little over a year, did his duty and came home safely.

He got out of the army after serving his enlistment and decided to go to school. He was an excellent artist so he decided to go to graphic art school. He loved the classes he was taking it fell right in to what he loved most, drawing. Right around the beginning of 2006 he decided to go live with our sister and brother in law Lydia and Chele in Arlington Virginia. He helped with their children, took them to school and secured a job at a Honda dealership.

Now I am not going to go into what happened that fateful night because that is what this website is all about. It is hard for me to even write any more because my eyes are tearing up so bad. Me and my family just love him so much; we want to see justice brought about. Exactly two years ago he was alive and so full of life, then, for no reason at all, that was taken from him.

I pray almost every night for the detectives working on the case that they will have the knowledge and fortitude to bring the individual responsible to justice…

I don't think anyone can ever prepare for the loss of a loved one,
much less when that loss is tragic and violent. Time after time I
have replayed the morning of Friday, June 30, 2006, when the
doorbell rang at 7 a.m. and two detectives told me my youngest
brother, Paul, had been shot and killed a few hours earlier just a
mile from our home. Just thinking about it still makes me feel
like I have gotten kicked in the stomach. The events over the
following days were just as hard -- calling my father and mother
to tell them their youngest son had been killed. Trying to explain
to my children (then 8 and 5) what had happened to their uncle who
used to make them breakfast and walk them to school every day.
Packing Paul's belongings to take home to our family in Colorado.
Making arrangements with the funeral home and looking for a nice
suit and shirt for him to wear. Gathering with my other six
siblings and extended family in a very emotional reunion when we
buried Paul in Westcliffe, Colorado.

Even during those dark times, my family and I have found several
sources of comfort. Friends, neighbors, co-workers - and complete
strangers - opened their hearts and arms, offering sympathy and
help. My church family was wonderfully supportive. The grocery
store where Paul was last seen matched our reward offer. Media
covered the murder the first few weeks, keeping the story alive.
Volunteers (again - friends, neighbors and co-workers) helped pass
out flyers to hundreds of people at Pentagon City and Pentagon Row
asking for information about any details regarding Paul's death,
anything to help the police get a lead. Most of all, our faith in
God carried us through.

We have just past the second anniversary of Paul's death, and his
case is now listed on the cold case page of Arlington County
Police. Our family has realized the pain and loss never goes
away, but life does go on. We don't understand who is responsible
for his death or why - but we believe and hope and pray that we
will know soon.

What lessons do you take from something like this? I tell my
children that we don't know why this happened, but we have to
remember our love for Paul, how important it is to take care of
each other, and to have faith in God and the comfort he does
provide. We have great memories of Paul from when he lived with us
those first six months of 2006. And we are proud of what Paul did
accomplish during his life. We are a military family proud of
service to our country; he served in the U.S. Army and was in the
82nd Airborne, spending a year in Iraq. After he left the Army,
he had goals to get promoted in his job, go back to school - work
toward a better future.

He will never realize those goals.

But we believe someone will come forward, and we trust the police
will find whoever is found responsible for his death so another
young man will be able to realize his future, and another family
won't have to endure this ordeal that no one should experience.

- Lydia Robertson; Victim's Sister

"My memories of Paul began in the summer of 1984 when my husband, Andrew, Paul's brother, came to Colorado to show off our newborn, Hannah, to Andrew's family. Paul was a darling little two year old that could eat the most enormous pile of pancakes imaginable! His closeness in age to our eldest daughter blended our families, as he was just like an older brother to her, and we continued to have another child every two years. We moved a lot, as Andrew was an active duty Army Chaplain for nine years, but we came to Colorado to visit Andrew's family as much as possible, and they visited us as well. I remember Paul playing with our children in many settings, hugging guinea pigs, riding trikes, climbing into the barn loft to find new kittens, jumping on the trampoline, taking hikes... they really had good times together growing up. He was always affectionate and interested in the little ones too, and would hold and talk to our babies even when he was a teenager.

In January of 2006, Paul came to spend some time with us in Colorado, and I remember all of our children, (twelve of them by then), gathered round him on the floor in our living room as he showed them where he had been in Iraq and told us of some of his experiences there. Just 5 mos. later, I received the phone call telling of his murder. Andrew was gone, hiking in the mountains with a couple of our teens, so I went down to be with his parents. We sat, crying and praying together throughout the morning. What a shock for the whole family! Some of our friends and family were surprised that our whole family, clear down to three year old Micah, participated in both the memorial and graveside services. We felt that, as Paul had been a special part of their lives, that they needed to have this opportunity to grieve with all of us. And grieve they have. It has been touching to hear them talk of their memories of their young uncle this past year since his death. Surely, Paul is gone from our family circle, but will never be forgotten."